Underground Knight cp1
by soogi
Summary: Based on HB1, this story is about John Myers. Also includes a character I have written about before - the woman John would love if he wasn't already married to the B.P.R.D. Knightly romance, nothing more but a lot of action. Comments appreciated!
1. Chapter 1

John practiced in the small mirrored studio next to the gym. Dressed in a white shirt and black pants with wide legs, with a black sash tied at his waist, he sweated with the effort of another kata.

It takes Aikido to overcome a monster, thought John. Red might be able to smash his way to victory. A normal guy like me has to use the force of evil against itself. Deflection, not opposition. An hour into the exercises John was weary, but he wouldn't quit just yet. Not until he stumbled, and then he would practice for half an hour more.

Because when he was out in the field, the enemy would attack his weakness.

"You have to oppose evil," said a voice behind him. "You have to arm yourself with good. And it won't do you any good to practice by yourself."

"Abe," John panted. "If that's a hint - yes. I could use a partner here. Not a Zen master."

"I'll practice with you, then. You know of course, I already know what you'll do as soon as you do it." Abe wore a wetsuit from ankle to wrist. His gills were hidden under the giant collar of his respirator.

John turned around to face him. "You going to work out in that?" He asked.

"You're right." Abe removed the neoprene shirt and threw it to the ground. "I'm ready when you are. You should be _nage._"

The two men squared off and bowed. They worked together as one, Abe falling as a courtesy in response to John's moves.

Abe felt his partner weaken. "Time to switch, John. Try to overpower me," said the fish man. "If you move without thinking, I may not know where you're going." John stopped, became still. He measured Abe. Relaxed, then thrust forward. John felt a touch at his wrist, a pressure at his shoulder and he was down.

"For an instant I was the aggressor," said Abe. "You could have used my force against me."

"I told you not to talk like a Jedi master," said John. "You need to stop those late night movie marathons with Red."

"What else can I do when my wife is away?" Abe replied.

The two men squared off again. John came in slowly, matching his movement to Abe's. He felt an instant when Abe was off balance. Then John was thrown to the ground.

"That was good John. For a moment, I couldn't read you."

John snapped up. "Again Abe."

A steady steam of talk came from Abe as they sparred. "You're thinking about Angela."

John fell, got up.

"Ready to quit?" John shook his head.

"Words are the real weapon," said Abe. "They can be used against you to disarm you." He threw John to the ground who rolled, and leaped away. "Words can make you weak, especially when they are threats against someone you love."

He swayed to avoid John's arm, then touched John on the wrist. The agent sunk to the ground, held down only by the touch. "You love Angela. Would you do the right thing, even if it meant losing her? See yourself defending her. Would you be distracted?"

John pictured Angela, in his mind. Hurt, helpless. What would he do? His mind clouded over, as if a shaft of darkness passed before his eyes.

Then it seemed Angela was there - couched in the corner of the room. Her face was bloody. She looked up at a dark figure hovering above her. Moving about the figure was a dark cloud, like wings, a thousand swirling blades.

John struck out, and Abe fell to the floor. The apparition was gone.

"Abe! You okay?" The blue man couched on the floor, the broken respirator in his hands.

"I didn't produce that vision," said Abe. "But look what became of it." He held the broken respirator out to John. "I think I'll go back to the tank. Could you take this in for repair?"

"But, what was that, Abe?"

"I have no idea. It could have been something from Angela's past. Or, it may be a monster you'll have to face in the future in which case . . ." Abe gulped out the answer, his gills straining for oxygen. "A very unusual apparition. Come by in a few minutes. We can talk about it."

John stayed behind to replace the mats and clean up. When he looked in the mirror, he saw where he had bitten his lip. A small line of blood rested there, like a knife cut.


	2. Underground Knight, Chapter 2

When John came into the library half an hour later, Abe was sitting at the desk reading a number of ancient-looking books. John looked over the numerous piles of books scattered across the floor.

"This place is a mess."

"Like I said, the librarian is on vacation," Abe answered. He smiled a lop-sided smile. After turning a page and reading a bit more he put down his book. "I'm sorry, John. So far I have not found anything similar to the apparition you saw."

"Abe, you saw it too."

"But only through you. My guess, from the nature of the threat, is that it is a demon. Why it would be attacking Angela is a mystery. It's also possible your vision may not be literal."

"Not something I could ask her about, either." John bent down and grabbed a book. The illustrations were ghastly, and some looked familiar. He sat cross-legged on the floor and leafed through another. "I mean, she has her boundaries."

Abe got up from the desk and kneeled by John, looking like nothing so much as some sort of blue frog.

"John, you've never talked about her profession with her?"

John blushed. "Abe, that's her business. No matter how I feel about it, she's free to do what she wants. It's not as if I can offer her any kind of commitment." Abe felt his discomfort.

"Abe, if I didn't know you, after looking at your library I'd wonder about you."

"As if my looks wouldn't be enough," answered Abe. "Why don't you give her a call. I think, for her protection, you may want her to know of your vision."

John debated with himself on the way back to his office. "What do I say? Angela, I pictured you lying on the floor being attack by a demon - does this ring any bells?" "Angela, are there any demons in the family closet?" He'd think of something by the time she answered her phone.

But it was Angela who had called him while he was talking with Abe, the voicemail light blinking on the phone in his office.

"John - I really need to be with you for awhile. I just got a phone call from my family's solicitor. My sister has died. It was suicide."


	3. Chapter 3

John chatted with the doorman at Angela's building while the man waited to anounce John's arrival. No one answered her phone, but a minute later the door to the elevator opened, and Angela rushed over to hug John.

"I'm so glad you're here," she said, taking his arm and leading him to the elevator. "There's no one else other you I want to talk to. I need a friend tonight." She held on to his arm.

John looked at Angela's face. She'd cried off her makeup long ago, he noticed. Her eyes were quite swollen. She was beautiful to look at.

With all the important people she knew, strange to think he was her only real friend. His heart lept at the thought, and he kissed her on the forehead. She gave him a small smile in return.

Angela's condo was a mess, with books and other items strewn across the floor. "This place reminds me of Abe's," John said. He picked up a finely-bound photo album and opened it. The album was filled with pictures - kids playing, riding horses, and more formal portraits of kids and teenagers in equisite outfits. The photo album was expensive, the photos in it placed with precision.

"My family," said Angela as she took the book from his hands. "My mother loved to take pictures. And my Grandfather too. They are all gone. Nothing but photos now."

John picked up another book. "Tell me about them, and about your sister."

They spent the afternoon looking through the albums. Angela told him stories of her family and early life. She had grown up with wealth, her family minor aristocracy. Yet it seemed on every page, there was pictured someone in her family who had taken their own life. He wondered if it came with the lives they lead. What in a family could cause such despair?

"My sister and I were close at one time," said Angela as she looked at the picture of two young women, arms around each other and laughing. "My Uncle Thierry, here," she pointed to a man with a solemn face, "when he died, Celine seemed to change. She ran off for a while, from the family. There was no one left but me. So I came to America."

"She was close to your Uncle," John said.

"Not any more so than I," replied Angela. "Uncle changed too, a few years before he took his own life. We did what we could for him. But what does a young girl know? Anyway, Celine wrote me a few years after I had established myself here. She was better for awhile. In command of the world, she'd say. Then several months without contact, and early this morning, the call from our solicitors..."

John was afraid for Angela. With so many deaths in her family, what if she started to feel the same way about life? He had to spend more time around her. Maybe get her to council with Abe.

They talked until the sun set, then John suggested they have dinner. Angela made a reservation at one of her favorite restaurants. He'd heard of it - an expensive place. The kind of restaurant her clients ate at.

John called the B.P.R.D. to check in. The restaurant was uncrowded when they arrived - still too early for the dinner crowd. The Maitre'D greeted Angela warmly, and led them through the room to an enclosed courtyard and a waiting table.

The trees, loaded with candles, glowed softly. "Isn't that a fire hazard?" John asked. He got up from the table, and much to Angela's amusement went to a tree to examine the candles. They were fake - LED's set into a plastic sheath.

"Country boy." Angela laughed.

Angela spoke in french to the waiter. The Maitre'de brought a bottle of wine 'on the house', for the couple, and talked to Angela for a few minutes more. It was obvious they were well acquainted. Countrymen, maybe.

As the couple walked along the sidewalk after dinner, Angela remarked, "You understood what we were discussing, the Maitre'de and I?"

John nodded. "I understood. I learned French, Spanish, Chinese at the Camp. Not enough to speak, but enough to understand."

Angela smiled. "I thought so . . . maybe you just pretend to be the farm boy." She slipped her hand into his.

"Angela, when it comes to you, I don't pretend at all."

John took Angela to her condo, When she saw the photo albums her mood darkened. He stayed late, encouraging her to talk about her family, and then told her more about his childhood, and even some of his training at Quantico. Soon she was asleep, leaning against him as they sat on the couch.

"Angela," he touched her on the shoulder, "I'm leaving. Go to bed and get some rest."

"No," she answered, "stay here tonight. I need the company. Sleep on the couch."

She walked in the other room, and came back with a bolster and a quilt. She kissed him goodnight. Then she turned and walked into the bedroom, shutting the door behind her.

He went into the front bathroom. Took off his shirt and hung it on a hook on the door. Then he came back in the living room and taking his shoes off, lay down on the couch. He put his gun under the bolster.

John slept well until around three in the morning, when something tugged at his consciousness. He woke up hand already on the gun under the bolster. Angela stood over him in the darkness, staring with the blank eyes of a somnambulist. He got up and gently led her back to the bedroom. She lay down on the bed and he tucked the covers up around her.

Angela's eyes locked on John's. "I have become Death," she said. Then she turned over, leaving John to stand looking at her. Her breathing was heavy. She was asleep.

The next time John opened his eyes it was morning. He found Angela making breakfast in the kitchen, and gave her a kiss on the cheek before going into the bathroom to put his shirt on again.

"Did you sleep well?", she asked. "I did, knowing you were here."

It was the kind of breakfast that made John want to be married. Not that she was a good cook - it was just oatmeal in the bowl in front of him. No, it was the companionship and the laughter. Angela was radiant. He hated to ruin the moment by bringing up the events of the last night. But as an agent of the B.P.R.D, he had to.

"Angela, did you have a bad dream last night? You were sleep-walking."

She hesitated. "I did John. It wasn't pleasant. Did I say anything?"

"Nothing I could understand." A partial truth. 'Was it about your sister?"

She nodded. In a small voice she said. "I dreamed I was standing by a lake. It was dark, and the water was choppy. Not choppy really, but sharp, like the glittering blade of a knife. My sister came out of the lake to grab me. The lake was crowded. My sister said," she whispered, "it was our inheritance, this lake of blades, and I was to walk in the lake and join my people."

"And I went into the lake."

John tensed. "Angela, I had a vision yesterday, Abe said. It was about you, and it wasn't good."

He told her what had happened. "I'm sorry, but in light of what you said, I had to ask if it meant anything to you."

Angela burst with anger. "How can you be like this? Dragging me into the horrible things you involve yourself with! No wonder I have nightmares."

"And your timing," she added. "You're no better than a cop."

"Angela," John jumped up and took her by the shoulders. "I only want to protect you. I care about you."

She looked up at him. "But what an awful thing to tell me, just after I deal with my sister's death. Don't you have any feelings? Couldn't you have waited?"

"Yes. I could have." he kissed her on the forehead. "I'm sorry." John was crushed. He'd hurt her. Callous. Just like some of the agents he'd worked with.

John stayed another hour, then left. Angela escorted him down to the lobby. "I'll be by my phone," John said. "Give me a call whenever you want, and I'll call you later today to check on you. Or, you can come stay at my office. You know you have a few other friends there who would like to see you."

Angela nodded. She knew what he meant - Abe was willing to listen. That was something she didn't want to face yet. Abe already knew too much about her life in New York. She wasn't about to have him see into her childhood as well.

When John left, the doorman politely stopped Angela.

"Miss Bouvier, I have a delivery for you." he handed her a manila envelope. She thanked him, and took the elevator up to her condo.

Angela sat in front of the large windows that lit up her living room.

The envelope came from the Bouvier's solicitor in Lugano, Switzerland, a well-established firm. They had worked on behalf of her family for years.

"Dear Mme. Bouvier," it began. The solicitor passed along his condolences, and listed a number of items to be shipped to her at the end of the month. Attached was a copy of her sister's will, which was re-explained in plain language. At the end of the letter was a note that a second envelope was also enclosed, "to be given to you in the event of your sister's passing." The solicitor's name and private phone number, and his business card, was also enclosed.

Angela held the smaller envelope in her hand. On front was written, in perfect script, "To My Dear Sister, an explanation".

She tore open the letter and read.


	4. Chapter 4

_Oh my dear Celine, my sister. Why didn't you tell me. Why didn't I guess how bad off you were? How could you think you had killed someone?_

That you were a demon?

Angela walked the streets of her neighborhood. She had to walk. It helped to think.

_Her poor Celine. How many years had her sister been harboring the delusion,_ Angela wondered. _I should have brought her to New York. Why did I leave her behind? No one else cared. None of the people that were supposed to look after the family affairs. They let Celine_ _sink into madness, as if she were only a signature on a piece of paper. So cold._  
_  
I'll walk Five times around this block. Any more, and I'm crazy._ Angela walked with her head down. _A curse is stupid. Old world nonsense. The only curse in my family is bad genes. I'm better off the way I am - rich and single..._

Angel of Revenge... What did she mean? Too many books, too much time to sit and brood in that dead mansion.

I thought you wanted that life, Celine. I couldn't see what you were really doing.

Maybe someone hates the family. They talked to my dear sister, talked her into madness. Other families, barbarians. Not our equals. Envious of our position...

"Angela! I heard you had made a home here!" A distinguished young man stopped in front of the brunette.

"I'm sorry?" she said.

"You don't remember me? Jean-Philippe de Bossaerts. Ecole Barlas."

"Oh, yes Jean-Philippe. I'm sorry. Things aren't good right now. I just lost my sister."

He kissed her cheek again. "I'm so sorry Chere. Poor Angela. Let me take you out to dinner and we can talk. I'm working at the embassy, thanks to my father." She hesitated.

"Please Angela," he said. "I'm sure you could use the company of an old friend. You look as if you need to talk."

"Well... alright. But someplace quiet."

"Good," Jean-Philippe said. "Let's take a walk through the park, and we can catch up on things."

--

"I just came back from Angela's, Abe. Tell me what you think." John gave Abe a hand as he climbed out of the exercise pool.

"I can see already." Abe kept John's hand in his, seeing the past day's events between John and Angela.

Abe let go of John's hand, and attached the respirator around his neck. "Angela may have seemed better, but it takes a long time to recover from a loss like that. Ask her again if she'll come in to talk to me. May I continue Reading?

"Sure." Abe took his hand again.

"Your heart is pure. No doubt about that," Abe's eyes closed. "What is this? 'I have become death'? And she knows nothing about the figure in the vision?"

"Nothing," said John. "But the dream she described to me was so similar." He took his hand away from Abe. "I'm calling her again. I might take a few days vacation from the B.P.R.D., if Director Manning will allow it."

"I'll recommend it to him," Abe answered as they left the pool room. "And he won't be able to decline."

--

Paramedics burst in from the night and brought a blood-stained figure into the Emergency Room at Metropolitain Hospital. They took vital statistics and continued the I.V. the paramedics had started.

A weary doctor came into the exam station, and checked over the man on the table.

"Must have been quite a knife fight. He's lost a lot of blood. You have the I.D.?"

"Yes, Doctor. He's Jean-Philippe de Bossaerts. Registered as an attache for the Swiss Embassy."

"Welcome to New York," the doctor murmured. She paused, then motioned to the nurse to follow. The doctor paused around the corner, motioning for the nurse to speak quietly. "What did the paramedics say about this?" the doctor whispered. "Can you find them?"

"I'll try, Doctor."

"See if Dr. Anderson will come in here for a minute. I'd like to show him these wounds."

The two doctors stood at Jean-Philippe's bedside. "Have you ever seen anything like this? He could have bled to death."

Another doctor came in. "So it is true," the third doctor said. "Covered with stab wounds from head to toe."

"And the strangest part?" The first doctor said, "each stab wound is directly into the body. Straight in, with not one at an angle."

"It's as if a hundred attackers stabbed him at the same time. Or, taking it further, one person stabbed him over and over in a very short time, each cut with mathematical precision. As if it were done with some sort of machine. And I see no abrasions, no bruises. He didn't struggle."

"Was it some kind of weird ritual?" Dr. Anderson said.

"I don't know of any ritual that happens in an alley. Not even in Manhattan."

--

John brought his breakfast to his office and locked the door. "Six a.m.," he said to himself. "Too early to call her?"

_Yeah, way too early. She's had a few stressful days. She needs her sleep. So beautiful when she's sleeping..._

_Hope she doesn't have to go back home to take care of things. Wonder if I can go with her... _John looked at the picture in his desk.

_They say when someone close to you commits suicide..._

He picked up the phone and dialed.

_Please let her be alone._

"Hello?" Her voice was low.

"It's John. Did I - I mean, I know I woke you. Are you doing okay? Can you talk right now?"

"I can talk, I'm just sleepy... John! It's six a.m.!" He heard rustling. _Oh no. Not alone._

"Are you busy?" As soon as the words left his lips, John realized what he said. He punched himself in the forehead.

Silence. "Yes."

He hit himself a few more times. "Angela, come on. I'm concerned about you."

"Alright John. I forgive you." She sighed. "I'm coping, you know? I got a letter from my sister. She said some strange things. John, I think I should see Abe."

"I'll set something up," John answered.

"After I read her letter I was quite distressed. John, it's just a terrible letter. I went for a walk. Oh yes! I met an old friend, someone I hadn't seen since school. We went out for dinner..."

He clenched his jaw.

"I can hear you grinding your teeth from here. Nothing happened... isn't that funny? I can't even remember what I had to eat. Anyway, an old friend. He's working at the Swiss embassy..."


	5. Chapter 5

Jean-Philippe de Bossaerts. Name was familiar. He looked at the paper on his desk.

"Assistant to Swiss ambassador found stabbed. Police asking for witnesses..." John picked up the paper and ran out the door of his office. Abe was out of his tank as John walked through the entrance to the library.

"Angela had dinner with this man. He must have been stabbed just after that." He held out the paper for Abe, who took it and read.

"This certainly matches the apparition you saw. Did Angela say he gave her anything? An antique, jewelry perhaps? If so, she should get rid of it at once. An item such as that could be cursed."

"Nothing. She did say her memory was foggy. She wanted to talk with you," John said. "Apparently her sister had some idea a curse runs through the family."

"Yes! This could be a feud of some kind. One family warring against another. I know of grudges that have gone on for hundreds of years. Thousands actually." Abe looked down in thought. "I'd like to see this friend of Angela's. Can you arrange it?"

"I'll get right on it."John paused.

"And yes, John, I would like to talk with Angela."

"Thanks, I'll bring her in," John replied. He was out the door.

#

A man bulging with muscles pushed a wheelchair down the hallway of the Metropolitan Hospital. He wore a dark suit. An earplug with a wire was tucked into his breast pocket.

The slight figure in the wheelchair was bundled head to foot. Dark glasses covered his eyes, and he wore loose black leather gloves.

The dark-suited man wheeled the chair into a hospital room, shut and locked the door.

In the room a doctor bent over a patient also bandaged from head to foot. He looked at the figure in the wheelchair. "Dr. Sapien?"

"Yes Doctor. Thank you for letting me see the patient." He stood up and removed the bundles hiding the true appearance of the fish-man. The two doctors shook hands, Abe towering over the other man.

"He mumbles from time to time. we don't know what he says," said the hospital's doctor. "Do you have an idea who his assailant might be?"

"I may be able to find out."Abe pulled a glove and flexed his hand. He gently placed it on the man's shoulder. "He said he's sorry." Abe's hand moved up and touched a bandage. "And then he repeats it. This man feels guilty for some reason. As far as I can discern, it has something to do with the past."

"But not his own personal past," Abe continued. "Something else is going on." Abe put his glove back on. "Call John. I believe he's on his way to pick up his friend, Angela. I think she was with Mr. de Bossaerts when he was attacked, and she may also be in danger."

#

Angela sat in a chair next to the broad window of her condo. An open window let in a slight breeze, but she took no notice. Her eyes were glazed over as if in a dream. A scene blurred before her, a dissolving watercolor.

"Tears blur your eyes," a dark figure whispered. "Look down."

A little stick figure stained with blood, lay at her feet. "A child's doll," the figure whispered. "This is your family."

Women and children in rough garments ran back and forth in terror. Barbarians laughed as they swung swords and axes. Angela moaned. A slaughter. "They're killing my people, my family," she whispered.

"Tell me you want them stopped. Avenge your family."

"Slaughter my enemy!" Angela cried. A dark cloud rose around her.

"You enemy is before your very house, down on the street. Go meet him." She walked to the foyer, picked up her bag, and walked out of her condo.

#

John sped along the freeway on his bike. His secured phone buzzed against his chest. He pulled it out and read the number - Abe or his agent. John swung over to the railing and put the phone to his ear.

"Yeah."

"John, it's agent Benson. Abe says you should bring Angela in. ASAP, okay?"

"Is she in danger?" John asked.

"Just a minute . . . Abe says yes."

"Big danger?"

"Abe says yes to that."

"Can you bring the truck to her apartment?"

"Can do. What's your ETA?"

"I should be there in twenty minutes," John said. He stuck his helmet back on and pulled away from the railing.

Angela strolled through the front door of her building and walked into the evening. Half a block away a man sat at a sidewalk table, enjoying a drink. He saw Angela and waved.

"Angie! My dear! How nice to see you. Please come over to the table and have a drink with me."

She smiled slightly, and wound herself through the tables to greet the man. He gave her a long kiss.

"How fortunate to have seen you, Angie. I've just landed a most profitable account, and I had no one to celebrate with me." He leaned in closer. "I have a great deal of money to spend tonight. Shall I spend it on you?"

She smiled in reply. "I'd have to be discreet. But in a few minutes, if you come around the back door of my condo, I'll let you in on some of my new secrets."

He grinned broadly. "An early start to a long evening. I can hardly wait to see what naughty things you've learned over the past year." He kissed her hand, then helped her with her chair. "I 'll be waiting at the back door."

#

John sped through the tunnel, oblivious to the sound of horns and smell of exhaust. A torrent of names flashed past him, symbols of an artist's ego and artistry - giant graffiti letters in an explosion of color. He turned left as soon as he could and sped up-island. If any police stopped him, he had his credentials to smooth the way.

Abe watched New York slide by from the wide security window of the fake garbage truck. People were well-kept in this part of the city, with little more to concern themselves with than the politics of their cooperatives, or their offices. A woman like Angela should have been as carefree as that. Instead, what he had seen in her mind, almost as soon as he had met her, was pain. She was her own tormentor. Angela had no need of a real demon. Yet now, one pursued her. That Abe knew.

Did she carry guilt in her, as the young man in the hospital had? Almost certainly. Abe feared that John had much pain ahead of him.

John parked directly in front of Angela's building, and walked briskly through the front door.

"Miss Bouvier, please."

"Just a minute, Sir." It was a game the doorman played with him. The ultimate 'discreet Manhattan doorman'.

"She may be a minute."

John paced back and forth. Two minutes went by. "Sir? Could you please call her again? Or maybe I should just go up."

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that."

"For goodness sake," said John. "You know I'm with the FBI. Do I have to pull out my I.D.?"

"Of course not. Ms Bouvier should be back any minute. I saw her leave by the back entrance." The doorman pointed to the monitor in his desk.

"What?"

John raced out the door and around the side of the building to the alley. His hand touched his gun.

No reason to use that. He wished for Red's special bullets, filled with Holy Water.

Dark grey shadows filled the alley. John trotted in. He caught a glimmer of something in the air. A flash of something hard, like metal. He pushed forward.

The shadows around him cleared. Angela stood, transfixed, over a fallen man. Tiny sharp knives, like a metallic cloud of locust, swarmed in the air around him.

"Angela!"

She turned toward him, a look of fury slipping from her face. The glittering blades fell like rain, disappearing as they hit the pavement. He grabbed her arm and half-carried, half-dragged her back down the alley to the street just as the garbage truck pulled up.

Two agents piled out of the cab of the truck. "Abe says go around back," one man said. The back hatch opened halfway, and a blue arm swung out to grab Angela.

"Follow us back to headquarters," Abe shouted. "We have to go NOW. The demon is close to her."

"It was in the alley. Angela escaped."

"No. She didn't," Abe replied. He closed the hatch.


	6. Chapter 6

John and an agent watched as the garbage truck pulled away.

"Hope your girlfriend's okay," the agent said to John. "Where's the body?"

John led the agent down the alley to the prone figure. He bent down to check for a pulse and felt one - just barely. "Call NYPD. Have them get this man to a hospital." John stood up. "Tell them we have the suspect, and we'll be holding her for awhile. If they have any questions have them talk to Manning. I have to follow the truck back to headquarters."

A police car had pulled up to the curb, and John needed to discuss the scene with the police before they let him go. He asked them to radio ahead - John would be speeding with no time to be pulled over by a zealous cop. He got on his bike and headed out after the truck, and only when he exited the tunnel did he realize he hadn't looked back at the man lying on the pavement. John was far more worried about Angela. He let his feelings get in the way of his duty. And it didn't change a thing.

He knew the route the garbage truck would be taking back to the B.P.R.D. John looked ahead at the traffic - no sign of the truck ahead. He accelerated. Angela would be safe from whatever had attacked her, John thought. Red and Blue knew quite a few tricks, and if the demon came right into the middle of the B.P.R.D., well, so much the better. It would be right where the agents could fight it.

Angela sat in the very back of the truck, Abe at the opposite corner. His hand out before him, he felt for the otherworldly presence that had faded when they pulled away from her building back on the island.

He saw a few quick flashes of anger, like flames. No demon now, yet Abe knew by experience that evil was hard to vanquish. And once established it didn't leave by itself.

"Put your hand down Dr. Sapien." Angela opened her eyes.

A formal greeting. Angela had put up a wall between them. Perhaps she needed to hide something. Or she felt guilty. Abe answered her in kind.

"Do you remember what happened, Ms. Bouvier?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I was sitting in my apartment, and now suddenly I'm in your truck. Why?"

"Because, Angela, something attacked you. As well as your friend."

She turned inward, confused. Abe put his hand out searching. There it was - just below the surface. A momentary darkening around her.

"Do you know who the man was?" Angela looked with sudden concern into Abe's dark eyes.

"If you'll let me hold your hand, Angela, I might be able to find out."

John sped around traffic on the busy freeway. Far up ahead he saw the lights of a truck. "Yes!" he said to himself. He hugged the bike and sped on.

Angela latched onto Abe's hand, and the truck with all its contents melted away. He saw a man talking with Angela at an outdoor cafe table on the street of the metropolis. Yet at the time, he was a soldier dressed in an ancient uniform. A warrior. "Barbarian," mumbled Angela. "Killer."

The air around her darkened once again. "Butcher! You killed my people!" Abe tried pulling his hand back, but she held on tightly. "Killer!" the air darkened around them.

Abe let go and backed away from the brunette. Her eyes were closed. An angry buzz filled the air, a cloud of tiny insect-like razors swirling around her. Abe saw the headlight of John's bike pulling up along side the truck. John waved, and Angela's eyes snapped open. She turned to the window.

A sparkling cloud pierced the glass of the window and shot out, enveloping John. The sharp blades hit against the faceplate of his helmet, and he batted at it, the bike weaving back and forth across the lanes. Drops of blood hit the faceplate, obscuring his vision.

"Angela, stop it!"yelled Abe. "It's John you're killing!" He wrenched his hand away, and grabbed her, forcing his way into her mind.

John's bloodied hands slipped on the handlebars. He fought to slow down, and the bike slipped away from him. John and the bike rolled across the freeway past speeding cars. He prayed that as he rolled, the bike and cars would stay well away, and tried to keep an eye on the bike as he turned over and over.

As he finally stopped rolling, he heard the crash of car against bike. John found himself neatly lined up next to the guard rail, the bike a hundred feet away. He put his hands up to take off his helmet and it fell into two neat pieces, one in each hand. The pieces slipped from his hands, slick with blood.

The cloud of blades was gone, as well as the garbage truck.

John sat up, stretching everything carefully to see how badly he was hurt. Beyond the cuts, he wasn't in too bad shape, he thought, but dirt had been ground into each little cut on his hand. The sleeves of his leather jacket were almost shredded, and the road had sanded away patches on his jeans. he was lucky he'd dressed casually.

One of his boots was missing.

John only heard the ambulance as it was almost on him. Figures jumped out, and red and blue lights washed over him making him feel a bit dizzy. He let them place him on a stretcher. As he was loaded into the ambulance he heard one paramedic remark, "Someone is really looking out for this guy".


	7. Chapter 7

Angela . . . look at me.

She opened her eyes. Abe's dark eyes gazed down at her. He cradled her in his arms, holding her firmly against the rocking of the speeding garbage truck. He searched in her mind for a hint of recognition, but she was far away, lost in a scene of horror.

What was that ancient scene that held her, and why did she identify with it? Was it her own ancestors that she saw, or was she being deceived?

What Angela saw would have been repeated any number of times when the Romans swept through Europe. And any of us could be looking for revenge, Abe silently mused. All of our ancestors were at one time or other, conquered. And any of us could be influenced by the demon who has a hold on Angela.

"Revenge," Angela mumbled, as Abe set her down on the cot built out from the wall of the truck. He strapped her in.

One of the agents opened a small door to the back compartment. "Hey, Doc. Paramedics called in back at the scene. Myers is okay. Do they bring him in to the B.D.R.P., or do we swing back and pick him up?"

"Have them transport John to the Bureau," Abe replied. "We have to get Miss Bouvier secured before we do anything else."

#####

"Oww!" John said."Now I know why Red complains."

"Yeah. You'd think with all that mojo he's got going all the time, he'd be more empathetic," Red answered, looking up from the paper he was reading.

Abe's lips were set in concentration. He peered closely at John's hands. "Now at least I can examine the cuts up close." Abe thought for a minute. "Would you like me to give you something for the pain?"

John shook his head. "I want to stay awake."

"No, John. I don't think it's a good idea to see Angela," replied Abe. "I'm going to have to stitch you up. It will take a few minutes. Please let me give you something to dull the pain."

"No meds," John replied. "And of course, I want to see her. When can I talk to her?" He winced as the needle pierced his skin. Abe worked quickly.

Abe leaned in close to John and spoke in the agent's mind. I can feel everything you're going through, same as I can with Red. Don't tell him - he'd stick himself with a pin just to spite me. Please, take the painkiller. It will help me.

"Hey," growled Red. "You talking about me?"

"Abe's asking me to take the meds," John replied."He doesn't want to see me crying like a big, red-"

"Watch it, little man."

"Red, if you can't handle yourself you'll have to leave. I have a patient here, and whether you want to admit it or not, he has some serious cuts, as well as a few rather nasty abrasions." Abe swiftly loaded a hypo and shot it into John. "I know you're concerned about him. Why don't you get ready to battle a demon, and I'll let you know how John is doing."

Red got up and crumpled the paper. "I'm always ready for battle." He left the room.

"It's funny how supernatural wisps can beat a person up as badly as a room of thugs," John said. "Are you still stitching me up?"

"Almost done," Abe replied. "Why don't you describe the apparition to me while I finish up?"

"Like an angry bee swarm. Although, I wonder? Do bees really get mad, or is it automatic? Maybe it's more like, 'hey - this looks like fun! I've got to get in on the action. A party... on..." John's eyes fluttered closed.

Abe felt John drift off. He finished, left an agent on watch over John, and went to see Angela.

########

She lay curled up on the small cot in one of the detainment rooms. Abe knelt, and placed his palm on Angela's forehead. A guard stood behind him.

"Has she said anything at all?" Abe asked the man behind him. "Any motion of any kind?"

"You mean like an apparition - the swarm that got Myers? Nope. quiet as a mouse."

Abe held Angela's hand, gently straightening out her fingers. There was a ring on her right thumb, a man's ring. He slid it away from her thumb and examined it.

The ring was made of gold, intricately worked in pave garnet in the shape of a red drop, with three small diamonds painting a highlight across the bottom curve of the drop. In relief, two dark metal swords appeared to pierce through the drop. On the inside was inscribe a word.

"Bructeri" Abe whispered.

"Veleda", the brunette answered.

"Angela. Are you awake?" He held her hand once again. Nothing. Abe turned to talk to the guard. "Let me know as soon as she's awake. And as soon as -"

"Abe? Is that you?" Angela sat up. "Where are we?" she said as she looked around. Her shoulders slumped as she recognised the small room she was once held prisoner in.

"Agent Jones," Abe said to the man beside him, "you should leave."


	8. Chapter 8

"What does the word engraved on this ring mean to you, Angela?" Abe held the ring out before her, and waited for a reaction from the brunette as he repeated it.

"Bructeri."

Nothing. "I have no idea what it means." She reached for the ring, but Abe held it slightly out of her grasp. She dropped her hand. "I suppose it could have been my uncle's."

"May I keep it?"

"Of course, Abe. Although if you're going to read it, you may find a great deal of sorrow in it. May I see John now? Is he here?"

Abe sat down next to her. "Angela - John is here. He's had, some trouble-" Abe put his hand on hers as she jumped up, and calmed her. "- he's going to be fine. You'll see him when we determine it's safe."

"Safe for who, Abe?"

He turned to her, and took her other hand. "Do you know what happened outside your apartment? Do you remember how you got here?"

Angela's face tightened with fear. "I don't." She looked down at her hands, searching her mind. "I remember someone talking to me - or was it - was I outside? Is John hurt because of me?"

Abe nodded, once. "More accurately, it's part of his job with the B.P.R.D. But, yes. It's because of something you have become entangled in,and I'd like to show you what happened. But I also want you know, when you see what has attached itself to you, that we can help remove it."

"It is my family's curse, isn't it," Angela sighed. "Abe, it always seems to come down to you digging into my life, and pulling out something I'd rather not face. I don't know if I have the strength for this. I'm alone now, Abe."

"John will always be with you. You know that."

"Yes, but will he forgive me?"

"If you were hurt because you came to his aid, would you forgive him?"

"I'd forgive John anything," Angela replied. "Very well, Abe. I'll endure whatever you have to show me."

"Excellent." He held up her two hands in his. "I'm going to start with the most recent events: what happened an hour or so before we transported you to the B.P.R.D., what I saw in your mind during your 'fugue state', John's accident."

"It was an accident,then. John had an accident."

Abe then showed her the black swarm of flashing blades. "This is what caused his accident, Angela. What can you tell me about it"

#######

Abe closed the door behind him, and an agent moved back in place, standing guard. Across from the door, Red stood, head bowed, mumbling. Abe waited until Red was finished.

"A prayer of protection? Thank you."

"Someone's got to stand in the gap," the huge agent growled. "You bring the demon right into our place, on purpose. You think I'm not going to ask the Big Guy for some protection?"

"I don't think that whatever it is, we're in any danger. Angela is safely tucked away, we are to be notified if there is a manifestation, and in any event, I'm sure you could withstand anything a demon could hit you with as you perform an exorcism."

"Cuts still hurt, Blue. And this prayer and fasting still weighs on a guy. Especially the fasting."

"It may be that this is the only thing you'll need to cover with a protective prayer." Abe passed the ring to Red's huge hand.

"Huh." Red cocked his head from side to side as he examined it. He covered it with his stone hand, and bent his head, lips moving in a silent prayer, then looked up. "Family crest?"

"No," answered Blue. "Angela doesn't know anything about it. I thought John might help me, though. He can research, and it would help him feel as if he were doing something as he recovers. And Angela herself gave me another two clues."


End file.
